


you get yours, i'll get mine

by ElasticElla



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Post-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 10:24:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15993257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: The first gift arrives with a postcard from Munich. A simple sentence in calligraphy, that should leave her terrified.Are you sorry baby?





	you get yours, i'll get mine

**Author's Note:**

> title from meiko's bad things which has been stuck in my head since before i binged this show, so y'know fate

The gifts start with the bodies. Nineteen days after she stabs Oksana. Fourteen days after she finds Niko dead in their home, knob sliced off and stuffed in his mouth. Eleven days after the funeral, since she saw Elena and Kenny and even Carolyn. Take a holiday, they all said, hide away, we can help you. 

And Eve thinks they’ve put too much value on her as a draw, she did stab Oksana. Can’t possibly expect the woman to want her anymore. (And Eve doesn’t want her to, she _doesn’t_.) But they don’t know that, they can’t know that, and Eve really should hide. 

She doesn’t. 

It’s a mixture of arrogance and selfishness and self-deprication, blame and emptiness and grief. Her husband is dead and she can’t stop thinking about his killer. 

Once, she said she’d find Oksana’s weakness and kill it. Once, she even meant it. 

But she didn’t kill Nadia or Anna or herself. And if Villanelle goes three for three, at least she can stop feeling so guilty about her non-reaction to Niko’s death. (She knows she loved him once, so why is it so hard to recreate the feeling?)

Four days after she hit the halfway point of the La Villanelle perfume. She’s never gone through a perfume so fast, can’t stop dabbing her wrists with it. In every inhale she can feel Villanelle pressing up against her, lips brushing past her cheek. 

The first gift arrives with a postcard from Munich. A simple sentence in calligraphy, that should leave her terrified.  
 _Are you sorry baby?_

Eve’s fingers tremble with something else as she opens the box, a beautiful purple and silver silk scarf within. She wraps it around her neck, and tucks the postcard away. For the first time in nearly three weeks, she thinks about the future. 

She begins looking for a job, fingering the smooth scarf and reminding herself it’s not an alibi.

A few days later a higher ranking German general’s suicide hits the news, his body found in his home in Munich. It comes out that he recently switched his ptsd medication, and conversation erupts over the continent about healthcare. 

Eve paperclips the article to the postcard, reassuring herself that given Villanelle’s past, there’s nothing she could collect that would make a sentencing dramatically worse. Not that she doesn’t want Oksana to be caught. Someone would certainly kill her- she knows too much. They wouldn’t get to the bigger picture, and justice wouldn’t be done. 

(She’s always said grand concepts make for the best cop outs.)

A week later there’s a postcard from Bern and a jar of hot cocoa powder.  
 _He screamed like a pig._

And Eve shoves it into a box with the other one, lying to herself that Oksana’s writing about whoever she killed in Bern. 

Another week passes, and Eve starts volunteering at the local library. She doesn’t have an English degree much less a library sciences mastery; though admittedly, she doesn’t need more money. She can easily live out another decade with moderate spending, and doubtless that’s overestimating her longevity. 

The library is boring and safe and occasionally helping the elderly that don’t understand how these newfangled computers work and the younger kids find their book report materials. She’s never liked vacations, but this calm is growing on her. 

Friday evening there’s a bouquet of tulips and a card from Amsterdam.   
_The authorities truly are hopeless without you._

And Eve should turn it all in. Hell, she could call up Carolyn and have it taken away. They’d monitor her mail for the next one, trace it back to Villanelle, and that’s game over. 

They probably don’t even know she’s still active, two deaths iron-clad suicides and one unfortunate accident. 

All the boldness from before is gone, and Eve needs to stop thinking about why that is. Oksana is a murderer. Just because Villanelle seduced her, just because she needs a mental distinction – doesn’t make it real. 

A week and a half, and there’s a postcard from Abidjan and a dagger.   
_Take care of this one. Won’t you baby?_

It’s a stunning knife, sleek and jagged, with an ivory handle. A solid weight in her hand, and all too easy to imagine driving through some faceless figure. Eve pours over copies of reports she wasn’t supposed to take home, reading and rereading all cases with knives. She doesn’t practice with it, nothing so official, more of absent-minded playing.

Like a hobby. She isn’t- she isn’t turning evil or whatever, she hasn’t bitten the fruit. (The back of her mind whispers that the fruit wasn’t so literal, not eating Villanelle but stabbing her.) 

During the next week, Eve is late to the library one too many times and is fired. She didn’t even know she _could_ be fired from a volunteering position, but it fits her recent employment record. Eve doesn’t get a new job, playing with her knife instead and puzzling out how Oksana does each kill. One of them takes months for the world to know he’s even dead, a reclusive political writer. And Eve knows it could have been even longer, the body found through pure dumb luck in a lost hiker. There’s a new map on her wall, a perverse version of how she once tracked Villanelle- now focused on the kills rather than killer. 

The postcards and newspaper clippings build up in her shoebox, the top no longer closing tightly when a special card comes from Moscow.   
_I hear Barcelona is romantic this season._

It’s the first one that has real information on it. A test, or challenge, or both, right there in thick black ink. 

It isn’t a question, it’s a statement and Villanelle knew that. 

It takes a disturbingly short amount of time to pack what she needs and put all sensitive materials on her bed. A pity to lose the keepsakes, but if she’s going all in, she’s doing it right. The entirety of her liquor cabinet is poured all over the house, the handle of Niko’s expensive whiskey soaking into all evidence of Oksana she has. 

Eve lights the match, and doesn’t look back.


End file.
